


you (and me)

by NotTheProtagonist



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Anne breaks some insecurities, F/M, One Shot, and it's glorious, and this title kept popping up in my head, i am actually proud of this, i couldn't think of a damn title, in case you can't tell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTheProtagonist/pseuds/NotTheProtagonist
Summary: A silly question about Gilbert's ideal wife - doesn't he know Anne likes to eavesdrop?





	you (and me)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is an extension of 'Imaginary Husbands' but it's a bit different in tone so that's why it's published separately. I do prefer this over 'Imaginary Husbands' tbh. Hope you enjoy!

Watching Anne dance was a rare pleasure. Usually she would dance in private with select friends rather than in front of all Avonlea with a large group. The picnic, a summer tradition, was incredibly well-organised. Mrs. Lynde had selected the day months ago, and impressively, the weather gracefully respected her wishes. Gilbert had been sure it would pour with rain after glancing at the clouds last night.  
Instead the grass was barely dewy and the sun scorched the residents of Avonlea. Most sat under glowing white gazebos, sipping their icy lemonade whilst a few frazzled ladies with jugs checked for re-fills.  
Gilbert had been sat with Bash, Mary and their daughter Grace, but Moody had begged him to sit with him and Charlie so the latter wouldn't boast of his athletic prowess. Gilbert had agreed, and the three had flopped onto a blanket, partly shaded by a tall gazebo.  
They were watching a towering Billy Andrews slow dance with Josie Pye, both gazing deep into the other's eyes and muttering sweet nothings. They were the only couple, with the rest of dancers wildly leaping and whirling like spinning tops.   
Jane had been whispering that Billy was due to propose any day, though there were other murmurs that Josie's mother was not happy with the union.  
Moody scoffed loudly, shaking his head. “What girl would want to marry Billy Andrews anyway?”  
The trio of boys barely masked their disdain as the music slowed and they watched Billy stride back to his leering followers, who kept their focus on a red-faced Josie. They jeered as he sat down, one mussing his hair and narrowly dodging Billy's fast punch.  
Charlie, Gilbert and Moody glanced at Josie, who gracefully descended to the bench beside her mother and silently played with a loose lock of hair.  
“If I ever get married, I want her to be humble.” Moody remarked. “Like Diana!” He added enthusiastically, before flushing and shrinking slightly.  
Charlie grinned. “You'll be lucky.” He took a cursory glance over the girls as one would a herd of cows ready for slaughter, hesitating for a moment on Anne. “Mine'll be beautiful. She'll have the food ready for me when I return from work, then she'll take me into the bedroom-.”  
Moody promptly shoved him. They were sat only a few yards from the reverend, who was sure to begin a tiresome lecture if he heard anything with a whiff of impropriety.  
Gilbert couldn't help but roll his eyes – it was no surprise at all that Charlie's motivation to marry was to fulfill his desperation to be regarded as a 'man's man'. He glanced across to the group of dancers, before joining in with the applause once the song had finally finished.  
The dancers retired and collapsed in their seats, most accepting handkerchiefs for their sweaty brows with a gasp of gratitude.  
Anne was still laughing, and leaned into Matthew when he complimented her dancing. The Cuthberts were not sat far from Gilbert. Bash and Mary had taken Grace and sat opposite them, allowing Marilla and Matthew to acclimatise to the infant.

“What about you, Gil? I suppose your wife will have to be a doctor too?” Charlie sniggered, cocking an eyebrow.  
Gilbert didn't like it when Charlie called him 'Gil'. It implied that they maintained some form of friendship.  
“No.” He replied, turning from Charlie and watching the new dancers warm up. As he turned, he was quite certain he saw a pale face whirl from him, her red plaits swinging slightly.   
He narrowed his eyes. Must just be the wind.  
But it wasn't windy. Moody had only just been complaining it was too hot.  
When he looked at Moody and Charlie again, they were waiting for him to elaborate.  
With a slight sigh of exasperation, he shrugged and told a bold lie. “I haven't given it much thought.”  
“Why not?” Moody asked, fanning his clammy brow. “We're almost seventeen.”  
“Drink something.” Gilbert said, pushing Moody's half-full glass of lemonade into his hand. He'd hoped Moody's dehydration would distract him, but the boys continued to watch him as both took a gulp of lemonade.   
“I guess I'd like her to be ambitious. I wouldn't want her to be stuck at home while I'm working, it sounds awfully boring.” He kept his eyes down, swiping a tall blade of grass from side to side.  
“Someone who can think for herself too. Someone I can have interesting conversations with. Who's not afraid to tell me when I'm wrong.” He finally plucked the blade of grass, rolling it between his thumb and finger. “Optimistic. Smart. Cute.”  
He clamped his lips shut before he literally just said 'Anne'.  
He allowed his eyes to stray to the girl in question, who had her head bowed, exposing her neck. Matthew still had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, but leaned back as Anne shifted and stood up.  
She paced away very suddenly, her hands balled into pale fists. Others raised their eyebrows as she pushed past them, whispering to each other about the orphan's poor manners – such a shame as they were sure she'd made such excellent progress!  
“Just getting a drink.” Gilbert gabbled his excuse and pushed off the ground, forgetting his glass as he hurried after Anne. 

He momentarily lost her bright, brilliant hair when she ducked around the back of the Lynde's gazebo, but caught up as she took off on the dirt path towards the lake.  
“Anne.” He said loudly, though he should have known this would not slow her down. “Anne, don't you want to watch the dancers?” He asked, quickening his pace to catch up.  
He was finally beside her when she suddenly halted unexpectedly. He continued a few paces before realising and backtracking. He moved his hands into his pockets and waited.  
“I felt like taking a walk.” She said clearly, folding her arms. “I didn't realise I needed to notify you before doing so.”  
He smirked. “Mind if I join you?”  
She raised her chin and made a show of sighing to hammer home the apparent inconvenience of their friendship. “If you must.”  
She resumed her fast pace as if she'd never stopped, the ghost of a grin on her lips when he took a moment to catch up.  
“Are you enjoying the picnic?” He asked as they ambled down the path.  
“I was.” She replied curtly.  
Gilbert waited for her to continue, raising an eyebrow when her lips stayed quite closed. “Is that it? Why aren't you having fun?”  
She scowled and opened her mouth as if to rant at him, before exhaling and folding her arms. “Reasons.”  
He stepped in front of her, causing her to stop. He held his palms up when she glared at him.  
“Seriously, Anne. I want to know what's wrong.” He hoped he sounded sincere – his mind was shrieking as it considered the possibility that his voice had carried over to her.  
She loosened her shoulders and moved her hands to her hips. Gilbert tried to ignore her – they'd both grown a lot in the past year.   
An incident involving Billy muttering about Anne's new figure and an 'accidental' earthquake of thick textbooks onto him was burned into Gilbert's mind.  
“I didn't realise boys liked discussing their future wives so much.”  
Gilbert's eyes snapped to hers. A hurricane of curses whizzed around his head, rumbling the flawless social skills his father had taught him.  
“Uh, oh, that was...we don't usually...” He scratched the back of his head, wishing he could look away from Anne's blazing bright blue eyes. “Moody brought it up.” He rushed out, as if that explained everything.  
“You seem to know what you want.” She mumbled, doing Gilbert a favour as she averted her eyes and picked at her sleeve.  
He took the moment to sort out his breathing, focusing on the distant droopy flags of the gazebos.  
She sniffed, before looking up at him. “I wish you luck.”  
His muscles locked into place. “I'm sorry?”  
“I'm certain I've never seen a woman who is all the things you say. And if I have, you're not the right age for her.” Anne declared.  
He almost laughed. “You haven't?”  
“What did I just say?” She argued, folding her arms.  
She was so adorably stubborn. She knew, so what was the point of denying his own words? Gilbert was left with only one reply. “Not even in the mirror?”  
Anne opened her mouth to deliver a biting retort, though it perished in her throat. All that escaped from her was a small, quiet noise that Gilbert may have missed if it was a windy day.  
He smiled, stepping closer to her. One thing he had always loved was their distinct height difference. They had both shot up in the last year, but the basis had remained the same – he was a good few inches taller.  
He took the fact that she didn't step back as a small miracle.  
“I know you probably want someone strong or rich.” He conceded. He was clearly not about to have Anne Shirley-Cuthbert fall into his arms, not when her expression conveyed her utter horror.  
“I don't.” Anne blurted out before flushing. She hadn't meant to say anything, it was her innate need to be right that spoke, its interest piqued with the subject of her own mind.  
Gilbert peered at her. “You don't?”  
Anne looked at him, water pooling in her wide eyes. “Don't lie to me, Gilbert. Are you making fun of me?” She breathed.  
She was almost certain he wasn't – surely he wouldn't be so cruel when their friendship was going so well? Yet her insecurities reared with every compliment intended to quieten them.  
They're lying. Your hair is ugly and so are you. You'll never be a teacher, a wife or a mother. No one will ever love you. Why would anyone love a filthy orphan?  
Gilbert didn't take her question as an insult. He'd noticed Anne's tendency to look away after someone said something flattering. A mumbled 'thank you' would usually follow. Gilbert had even seen her roughly scratch her head once or twice, as if to erase her thoughts that way.  
“No, Anne.”  
Just like that, Anne almost crumpled. There was an explosion in her heart, erupting through her throat, lungs and the pit of her empty stomach like fireworks. It tingled down to her fingertips and toes, causing a sudden shiver.  
Her life did not change because a boy liked her – her life changed because she believed it to be true and no swelling anxieties tried to convince her otherwise.  
Of course people loved her. Marilla, Matthew, Jerry and Diana were the first to jump to mind. But now her circle was widening, welcoming a new kind of love.  
Gilbert's love made her skin feel so wonderfully warm. It made her muscles ease and her mind mellow, like a delicate summer day.   
But with one look or word, he could turn her flesh into kindling and set her mind aflame, the silent smoke of her consuming thoughts swirling around her mind.  
She was blissfully unaware of the mirrored effect she had on him. She had unknowingly caused numerous sleepless nights, her lips, laugh and eyes the colour of the ocean at the forefront of his thoughts, appearing when he closed his eyes or stared into nothingness.

Anne burrowed her head into his shoulder, holding him as close as she possibly could.  
Gilbert was happy to hold and be held. Showing Anne affection was a craving he'd spurned for some time – there was a roaring delight in his chest as Anne nestled against him, her breathing turning from rapid to gentle.  
She looked up at him, eyes wet and face pale.  
Inexplicably, Gilbert was reminded of the game of spin the bottle he missed. He'd heard the tale of Anne kissing Cole after returning to Avonlea, though his 'friends' left it a week before telling him it was just a peck on the cheek.  
His body seemed to be leaning forward of its own accord, though Anne was the one to suddenly rise onto her toes and press her lips on his.  
As first kisses go, it was as good as it could get.   
They were inexperienced and young, but so delicate and careful. Anne was secure in the knowledge there would be plenty of time to spend kissing Gilbert. Gilbert's priority was not to overwhelm her with his feelings, despite how overwhelming they were for him.  
When they broke apart, arms still tangled together, both grinned. One small chuckle from Gilbert was enough to break Anne, and the two embraced again, chests vibrating with quiet laughter.  
“Bash will be insufferable.” He murmured, prompting another chortle.  
“You have my sympathies, Blythe.” She leaned back with a wicked smirk. “Marilla's been asking after you for months.”  
Flattered that Anne's foster mother approved of him, Gilbert smiled. “Maybe we should swap.”  
“Certainly not.” Anne rebuffed him. “I wouldn't deny Bash.”  
“Oh, but you'll deny me?”  
Anne, emboldened by her new experience and praying her confidence would not wither in the dead of night, planted a short kiss on his lips. “Not anymore.”  
She unclasped herself from him and wringing her hands together, gave a small, kind smile. She turned back towards the picnic, stealing one last look at him before disappearing behind a gazebo.  
The comforting heat that spread through him from Anne simmered nicely in his skin. He took stock of the last fifteen minutes, making sure he could remember every detail of Anne's kiss, touch and words.   
He had a feeling he'd need to recount this moment in a decade or so, when a tiny hand grasped his and asked how he and Mummy had found love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
